


What If...

by Ccriss



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: 9th grade, COVID-19, Corona - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Humor, My Class, My Class might Kill me if they ever find this, Other, Private School, Shenanigans, This is very old
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23634412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ccriss/pseuds/Ccriss
Summary: What if Fall Out Boy and Brendon Urie from Panic! At The Disco shadowed my class for a week.
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My class might murder me if they ever find this, but oh well! Enjoy!
> 
> Honestly this quarantine got me bored, so I'm posting old stories for fun.

Monday, 7:33 am

  
  


Yes, finally! We made it to school _before_ time. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like we’re there late every day-- or any days, in a matter of fact, I just feel more comfortable when we get there early. But since, the Metro Bus lady doesn't drive as fast as I would like, meaning that we will miss the 7:15 V4, meaning that we have to wait, Lord knows how long, for a V2 to come. And if we are fortunate, they’ll be one day out of the week when this doesn’t happen. Happily, today was one of those days.

To clarify, ‘we’ means me and my sister. My sister is a Junior, while I am a freshman. It’s not weird being a freshman, especially when you are in a K-12 school and I’ve been here since 7th grade and my classmates haven’t changed much, so it’s actually pretty comfortable.

Usually when you arrive early, near the beginning of winter, you are supposed to stay at the stairs (inside, of course), but instead, I made sure none of the staff were around before walking to my homeroom class. I put my lunch bag down on my table and took my bookbag off, following my gloves, coat, scarf, and head/ear band, picked all of them up and put them in my locker (which isn’t far from my class). I looked back and saw Mr. Dupper entering the class with a group of (white, and _yes_ that is important) men with a big smile on his face. 

_Well, doesn’t he look excited?_

I re-entered the classroom to Mr. Dupper sitting on the round table while the group of men---that I can now see that they are five of them--- standing in front of him, backs facing me. I moved to my seat (the front seat in the middle row) and popped a squat. Mr. Dupper saw me and scolded me with his country, Alabama accent.

“Camari, you know you’re not supposed to be in here,” I gave him a blank expression, “you say that almost every time, but we both know you don’t care,” I earned a chuckle from one of the men. He wore a fedora, but his strawberry blonde hair was still semi-visible, a black--what is that, suede?-- jacket, dark blue skinny jeans that looked kinda baggy (I understand, short people problems), and the classic black and white Vans. 

_Thank you, thank you, I’m here every day--- most of the time._

Mr. Dupper rolled his eyes, “Y'know I’m starting to think you like me,” he said, standing up and walking to his desk, a smirk growing on his face.

“No, you’re just nice,” I said, no sarcasm intended, as I rested my cheek in my palm as my elbow stood perched on the table. He let out a disbelieving hum. The five men were quietly talking amongst each other. 

I looked at the clock. 

7:37 am. Damn time moves fast.

I went to my locker, grabbed my math binder, and went back to the room. The men at the round table were now sitting down and facing forward, and I recognized their faces immediately.

“Mr. Dupper what is this?!”

No, I didn’t freak out like a fangirl on caffeine; I was surprised, confused, angry, ashamed, and _pissed._

I think I’ve created a whole new version of grief.

“What?” Mr. Dupper was now standing at his projector stand in the front left-hand corner of the classroom with papers in his hand. He shrugged his shoulders and his voice slightly went up an octave and he had his usual cheeky smile. 

Guilty as O.J. Simpson.

“Why are _they_ here?!” I said harshly, pointing at them with my arm.

Yes, my arm.

“They’ll tell you and the class later. Now grab a warm-up and take your seat.“ I rolled my eyes but obeyed nonetheless. 

Anisah came in, put her stuff down, and left right back out. Jermeanne came in next and had to take a double look...at me, _not_ at the men in the back of the classroom because it’s obvious that I’m the only one who knows who they are. 

Where is an eye-rolling emoji when I need one?

“Wha- how are you in here early?” Jerm’ asked, grabbing a warm-up from its stand and walking to his seat behind me.

“You mad?” I responded playfully, he shook his and started stripping off his book bag and over- jacket. He walked to the back of the class, passed the men, and placed his jacket in the bin near the desk where Michael usually works. Then walked back to his seat without sparing the men a single glance.

  
  


The fandom would scream right now.

  
  


We both started on our warm-ups and I tried to not look back at that round table. Mr. Dupper went to stand at the side of the doorway as the rest of the class started to come in one by one. By the time those ten extra minutes--or what they call homeroom--was over, the room was filled with fifteen students. 

Akayla didn’t come today.

“Alright, so who wants to pray for us?” Yes! He forgot the Pledge of Allegiance! 

Nobody raised their hand nor said anything. So of course, Devin volunteered.

After prayer, we went over the warm-up. Lastly, introductions.

“Now, we have few guests that’ll be joining your classes for the week,” Mr. Dupper started. 

“Why?” Alexis blurted with attitude.

“Well, if you let me exp-” Antonio, Alexis’ dark-skinned twin, cut him off, “look, I ain’t having no white dudes follow me all day.”

“Kill.” 

“Yeah, brah that’s dead,” Alexis and Michael agreed. I mentally shook my head.

“Wow, haven’t even introduced ourselves and we’re already being ostracized,” The one with short black hair and dark brown eyes, commented jokingly. 

“Yeah, well, we don’t know what that means so,” Anisah deadpanned. “Ma- Camari knows what that means--what that mean?” Makayla said, turning in her seat to face me. I looked back at her, “ostracized means to be cast out of a group... place... society, in a sort,” I defined. This has basically been my job since I’ve been here; spelling and defining words.

“No one’s being _ostracized,_ “ Mr. Dupper said stretching out the word ‘ostracized’. 

“In all due respect, they’re being ostracized.”

_Positivity canceled by realism brought to you by Ccriss. Hope you’re not easily offended!_

  
  


“No they’re no-y’know what, do you mind coming up here and introducing yourselves?”

“Of course.”

They walk to the front of the class and before the fedora one can say anything, I interrupted,

“Why are you here?” Rude. But necessary. “Well, damn!” the chubby one with the fedora kicked the one with black high flipped back hair in the shin. Brendon.

“Ow! The hell was that for?!” 

“Will you stop cursing in front of the children!?” scolded by-- let's see, chubby, strawberry blonde, fedora, black eyes glasses, green eyes: Patrick. 

I rolled my eyes. These _kids_ have been cursing since before 7th grade. Mr. Dupper is more surprised than we are. (Or should be.)

“Look, kid, do you even know who we are?” Brendon questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, you’re not exactly unknown ...?” Brendon's eyebrows shot up.

“LOOK! Are you gonna introduce yourselves or not,” Heaven cut in. “Cause if you don’t I will,” I finished.

“Alright, sheesh!” The wild curly haired one spoke. Joe.

“Alright, so I’m Patrick,” the chubby strawberry blonde one said, placing a hand on his chest, “this is Pete,” using the same hand, he almost slammed the back of his hand into noiret's chest, making him flinch. “Joe,” reaching up and placing his other hand on Trohman’s head. The curly brown-head scrunched up his lips and exhaled. “And Andy,” Patrick continued, moving his hand from the band member’s head and pointed his thumb to the tall, tattooed-covered man behind him. 

“And we’re Fall Out Boy,” Patrick finished.

“Who’s Fall Out Boy?” Alexis questioned from the back of the classroom. 

“Right! Like, are we supposed to just _know who you are?_ Like-“ Anisah started giggling.

“Right,” Makayla added, “like, you should know, we don’t really listen to white people.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes and turned around towards the back of the room. “Alexis,” she looked at me, “remember that group I told you about and you said that they were gay?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, what-” Patrick started.

“That’s them,” I said pointing to the men in front of me. “Oh.” 

“Wait, you thought we were gay?” Pete stepped up, pointing to himself and the rest of his band. “Not my fault Y'all sound gay,” she retorted, shrugging her shoulders, looking down at her assignment. 

Pete sighed, shaking his head while pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, _I’m_ not a part of Fall Out Boy,” Brendon emphasized, followed by an awkward chuckle, earning himself a deadly glare from every member from Fall Out Boy.

“What! I’m not!” He shrugged and thus being slapped on the back of the head by Joe Trohman. 

“Okay, so… Why are you here?” Heaven spoke up. So Brendon just _doesn’t_ get a chance to introduce himself.

“Since we were in the city, we figured it would be good for publicity and youth connectivity if we were to engage in a school activity,” Pete answered.

“Such as…?” I inquired.

“Following you guys around for a week,” Pete answered nonchalantly.

This is bullshit.

“And you chose here?” Alexis asked dubiously. “Well, yeah, we figured this was a good school,” Andy spoke up.

Nasir laughed hysterically, making a percent of the class laugh with him.

“Nasir!” Makayla playfully scolded him from behind. He only laughed louder this time with his head thrown back arms crossed over his ribs.

“Heh Heh, what’s so funny?” Andy questioned. This caused Nas’s laughter to increase wildly.

I chuckled silently, trying to keep my laughter to a minimum.

Nasir soon calmed and gathered himself in his seat. Nasir pulled his chair up to his table, still chuckling as he wiped the tears that were gathering in his eyelids. His face was now red compared to his usual light brown complexion. He still held a wide smile on his face as if he were to burst into laughter again.

And honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

“Oh my God,” he chuckled some more, “that was hilarious!” Nasir ended his comment in giggles. 

I looked down and shook my head as I snickered quietly. I looked up and noticed the confused expressions on the musicians’ faces.

“What?” Patrick asked, confused.

“Brah,” Nas started, “this school’s… TRASH!” Sadly said, it’s true.

Patrick rolled his eyes, “c'mon, it can’t be _that_ bad.”

“Nah dude, it’s that bad,” Antonio deadpanned.

Hold up, This school is not that, _that_ bad.

“This school is not _that_ bad. I mean, it’s certainly not Sousa.” 

“I mean, yeah, it’s not Sousa. If it was _Sousa_ …. Then yeah, we be trash,” Jayron added, helping my argument.

“Okaay… well, basically we’ll be shadowing and participating in your classes for the week,” Andy simplified.

Dupper clapped his hands together. “Now that that’s sorted, there are seats within the class where you can sit or you can continue to sit at that round table back there; I don’t really care,” he optioned while pointing to the free seats in the classroom.

There was a seat beside Devin, a seat beside Antonio, a seat beside Alexis, and finally, a seat beside me.

Andy decided to take a seat beside Antonio and _damn_ don’t I feel bad for him. Joe took a seat beside Alexis. Good choice. Patrick considered sitting next to Devin, but the mean, arrogant, (straight up mean-mug) look Devin gave him made him reconsider. Patrick took the seat next to me. 

A lot of people would’ve felt like crying, jumping for joy, but me, I just felt simply fortunate.

Patrick gave a gentle smile and I returned one. _I wonder if he is as worried about this as I am?_

And Brendon, being as bold as he is, took the seat next to Devin. Alexis started to snicker quietly in her seat behind him. Devin grimaced. Pete was left standing, so being the rebel he is, he grabbed a spare chair from the round table, placed in front of Caleb’s and Jermeanne’s table, and sat directly behind Patrick. Jermeanne and Caleb looked confused.

Hah. 

This is going to be one hell of a week.


	2. Math Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's sad. Everyday of my 9th grade school life started with Algebra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, but distance learning, quarantine, and everything else in this life can a lot out of you.

About 15 minutes down the line and Dupper was just finishing up today’s lesson and assigning us our class work. Our guests were given extra classwork to work on as well. I look around the room, checking my surroundings, specifically on our shadowers: 

I peek to my right to see Patrick working swiftly through the problems. I looked around him to see Andy using Antonio’s calculator. I look back to Devin’s table: Devin was turned around, talking to Alexis, and Brendon was on his phone.

_Was he Googling answers?_

I shook my head then moved my gaze elsewhere. Beside Alexis, Joe looked as if he was working through his math problems just fine until he used the butt of his pencil to scratch his head. A confused look grew on his face as he tried to solve his problem.

Multiple times.

By the fifth time he was having a silent spazz session, which I assumed was going to quickly turn into a silent _meltdown_. Alexis and Devin looked terrified. I turned and pulled my chair up to the table behind me where Jermeanne and Caleb sat on the other side and Pete was now beside me. They were talking about the latest Fortnite update when I broke their conversion.

“Hey,” I spoke quietly and they turned their faces towards me. “Check out Trohman back there,” I said, nodding my head in Joe’s direction. They both held confused expressions on their faces. 

“Who?” Caleb asked. I rolled my eyes, “Devin’s table.”

We looked at Joe and just as I thought, he was having a silent meltdown.

Caleb spoke up first, “woah… is he alright?”

“Yeah, he looks like he’s having a war with himself,” Jermeanne added (and I was almost expecting one of them to say some nerdy remark related to Marvel or something). 

Alexis and Devin exchanged looks trying to figure out what and what _not_ to do.

Patrick must’ve overheard our conversation, because--out of the corner of my eye-- I saw him look towards Trohman and look back at us. And then he spoke:

“Oh don’t worry about him. That’s just Trohmanian for ‘I’m done with math’.” Patrick informed with a small chuckle. 

I laughed, “Nah, that’s Trohmanian for _fuck_ math.” All four of us laughed. Pete would’ve too if he didn’t have his earphones in. 

I decided to be the nice--or some would say stupid-- person out of the class and got out of my chair and went over to Joe, who was now sulking with his head on the table.

“Are you okay?” he looked up at me. His face resembled a sick puppy that had been hit by a dump truck.

This is the perfect example of why we shouldn’t have math class.

**M** ental

**A** buse

**T** o

**H** umans

Now, all we need is a good lawyer and Joe Trohman’s testimony.

I looked down at his sheet of scratch paper that was neatly organized and numbered. The last problem he was on was problem 9.

_Damn, that problem’s a pain for everyone, huh?_

I looked over his work multiple times until I caught what he did wrong: he put a negative sign in the wrong place.

I tapped his shoulder, “Hey, I found what you did wrong,” he lifted his head from the table and looked at me curiously. He sat up, scooted his chair to the table, “you put a negative in the wrong place so you multiplied it wrong.“

He looked at the paper retracing his steps thoroughly and his eyes widened at his miscalculated error. 

Joe let out an airy chuckle, running his hand through his hair. He grabbed his pencil and corrected his mistake.

He let out an airy laugh, “Thanks, I couldn’t figure that out for the life of me,” he relaxed in his chair. 

“Yeah, l could tell,” I grinned. “What's your name, kid?” Joe asked.

“Camari,” I answered with a smirk.

He smiled, “I'm--”

“I know,” I cut him off.

_Wow, how nice of me._ I eternally shake my head at myself. _Good Lord Criss._

Trohman opened his mouth to say something, but another voice spoke instead,

“Hey, can someone help me out here?!” Brendon shouted out to no one in particular. I looked around the room for Dupper to find him trying to get Jayron to be quiet and actually work.

I looked at Joe, he looked at me, and we both understood:

Let me go help this fool.

I looked back at Brendon's table, Devin turned away, looking down with his pen to the paper to look like he was working. Or too busy to help Urie. I rolled my eyes at his false diligence and his silent refusal to help. 

I looked to Alexis whose eyes were wandering the classroom to see who was going to help. Her eyes caught mine and with a “pssh” she mirrored Devin's position, muttering something that sounded like:

“Won't be me. I ain't helping him.”

_Wow, how hospitable._

I walk over to Brendon and place my hand on his shoulder. He jumped on contact and turned around to look at me. “Oh, fucking finally!” He exclaimed.

Brendon winced, grabbing the back of his neck, “Ow!” We both turned around to the cause of his discomfort. All to find Joe glaring at P!ATD's lead singer.

“Dude, seriously?!” Joe said, pointing at me with a bewildered and irritated look on his face that I believe was meant for Brendon and not me. “She's literally right there.”

I look down, kind of hoping for invisibility, and see the small paper ball Joe harmed Brendon with. I chuckled humorously at it, “You really can't hold your tongue, can you?” I looked up at Brendon with a highly amused smirk growing on my lips.

"No."

“Shut up, Joe!”

I chortled at the two, shaking my head at their childish squabble.

“What? It’s true!” Joe argued.

“No it’s not!” 

“Yes it is!”

“NO. IT’S. NOT.”

“YES. IT. IS.” 

“Yo!” I interrupted their quarrel, “If I wanted to hear children argue, I'd be a babysitter!” I shouted.

_Good God._

Alexis and Devin died laughing, while I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“What do you need help with, Brendon?” I spoke calmly. 

“I don’t understand how to do the equation?” He said rolling his eyes and pouting. 

I looked down at his paper and damn, his paper was the complete opposite of Joe’s: messy and organized.

“I would _love_ to help you,” I started. “If I knew what you were actually stuck on!” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, holding a look that was pure exasperation. 

Brendon’s face resembled bewilderment at its purest, untouched form. 

“What do you mean?!” he asked, pointing to the paper he dared called work. Before I could answer, Joe answered for me.

“She means that your work is so junky that she can’t even figure out what you need help on or where you are stuck at,” Joe said, continuing on to his next problem, not looking up from his paper.

At all. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m messy myself, but… dude,” I frowned. 

His face blank for a moment, as if he was contemplating what we were saying. Then he rolled his eyes. Just when I thought he was thinking something meaningful. Damn him. 

“That's not the point, the point is that I need help,” Brendon said, pursing his lips. 

“Yeah, he needs help alright,” Alexis muttered, followed by a series of snickers coming from her and Devin. 

I shot a hard glare to the snickering duo. When they caught my eyes, all dams broke, and they laughed so hard that I had no choice but to shake my head and giggle.

Jesus Christ.

“You guys are ridiculous,” I shook my head and pinched my nose. 

“It’s probably true though!” Alexis exclaimed and continued to laugh. 

“What’s true?” Trohman questioned, looking up from his paper this time.

“Nothing!” I shouted before the jokesters said anything.

This, of course, captured the attention of the _entire_ class, and Dupper. 

“A’ight, dang! Y’all all loud!” Makayla shouted from the other side of the classroom, which wasn’t all that big to begin with. 

“Oh hush!” I glared and spoke pointedly to Makayla. “Camari!” 

_Dammit._

“Why are you up? You’re supposed to be doing your work?” Dupper reprimanded as he started coming towards me.

“Wha- they needed help!” I defended myself. Not my fault I was being a Good Samaritan. 

He crossed his arms, now standing in front of me, and exhaled, 

“These are grown men. I’m pretty sure they can handle a few math problems.” 

_Yeah~. Sure they can._

I might not be the smartest kid in my class (nor am I the dumbest), but I can admit to being the most observant. And though Dupper was right; these adults decided to go to an urban, Christian -- borderline Catholic-- private school that was so unpopular, the kids in this city don't even know the name of it. They were going to need a guide.

Since I was a huge fan of the groups, why should I not do it? No one else gave three damns about them and I know my entire class and teachers.

All I have to do is watch. Come in when I'm needed. Keep my distance when I'm not. And pray to God that this works out right

Piece of cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also (if you haven't figured it out already), Dupper is pronounced Dooper, Jermanne is pronounced germ-e-awhn, and Camari is pronounced Kah-mah-ree. I just thought I'd just clear that up, for those who were confused.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter the next one will be on its way soon!


End file.
